


An Angel Appears In A  Motel Room, OR, Castiel's First Kiss

by Batphace



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Control Issues, D/s themes, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Rimming, Spanking, Spit As Lube, SubbyCas, domdean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-10
Updated: 2019-02-10
Packaged: 2019-10-25 23:11:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17734460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Batphace/pseuds/Batphace
Summary: Set way back in S5Cas is tired of finding Dean in seedy motels, and Dean's tired of feeling out of control. Human urges are indulged in a dirty dirty way.





	An Angel Appears In A  Motel Room, OR, Castiel's First Kiss

**Author's Note:**

> Another commission for my buddy K  
> 10 points to anyone who recognizes the meme I got challenged to include and make work somehow. Seriously, when you see it, you'll shit brix. I don't know what I was thinking.

_An angel appears in a cheap motel room..._ Castiel thought to himself with a hint of a grin, thinking that it sounded awfully like the beginnings of a joke. He was coming more and more to understand human humor, and specifically the humor of the brothers he aided. Well, one brother now, since the other was... Castiel shuddered.

This brother, however, remained, and Castiel was getting more and more tired and frustrated by finding Dean drunk in some seedy motel room. The room reeked of old cigarette smoke, new booze and unwashed man. It had been almost a week since Sam had gone into the pit, and though Castiel knew Dean was on his way to the woman called Lisa, apparently he was taking a detour to drown his sorrows, as the human saying went. Dean seemed adrift. Castiel was starting to understand grief, in a human sense. He understood anger, and Dean was certainly angry. At his brother, at the choice he'd made. At the world as a whole.

What the angel didn't understand, was why Dean felt alcohol was a solution for these things. Castiel looked upon Dean in the sallow light of the single bedside lamp with it's cracked and yellowed shade, passed out over the rickety table with the liquor bottle still in his hand, face stuck in a puddle of his own drool, and was perplexed and a little angry himself. He had better things to do, more important certainly since Heaven was in utter pandemonium, than babysit this man, but he had to know Dean would be okay. Dean was too important, as much to the grand scheme of things as to Castiel personally. The angel wanted to think he was there for the greater good, but a part of him, an admittedly growing part, needed Dean to be alright.

He slapped Deans face, said his name, to no avail. Finally he pried the man upright in the chair bodily, and slapped his face again. “Dean!” Another slap, this one getting partially opened eyes, “Dean! We need to get you to bed.” Finally eyes opened, albeit blearily and obviously still very drunk.

“Cas? Wha-?” Dean looked around, wobbling a bit in the chair, and spied the liquor bottle which Castiel pulled away before Dean could get his clumsy grip on it.

“No, no more of this. The only thing we're pouring is you, into bed.” Dean just stared at him, Castiel's clever pun going unnoticed. The angel sighed and moved to do just that, hauling one of Dean's arms over his own shoulder and hoisting him to his unsteady feet. Dean turned his head and inhaled deeply... sniffing him?

“Smell good, Cas,” the man murmured, warm, liquor laced breath on the angels neck pulling his skin tight with goosebumps, “always smell good.” When he looked over, Dean was looking back at him with a lazy grin and warm eyes that made Castiel's insides go a little... what was the word? Gooey? “Look good, too, Cas. Cas... So _warmmmm.”_ Dean lolled against the angel's side, and Castiel knew he had to get him to bed. Quickly. Castiel's human vessel had human... needs, urges, and though his angelic spirit didn't experience these things, there were times, weak times, when he wanted only to indulge his human flesh. Sometimes he found himself burning up from the wanting. Mostly he wanted to indulge his human flesh with Dean Winchester.

The man was attractive, physically, but it was the closeness they'd achieved as friends and brothers in arms that truly drew the angel to Dean. Drew him in a decidedly less than... brotherly way. There were moments, too, where it seemed that Dean might be drawn to him as well; lingering looks, too long touches, casual affection that almost felt more than casual. Dean wasn't _big_ on affection, but sometimes... Castiel sighed as he finally got Dean maneuvered into bed. A few steps had never felt so long.

“Cas?” Dean sounded so small, so lost. Castiel couldn't- “Cas, tell me I'm... pretty.” That had been the last thing the angel expected, and it hit a bit close to home, too close for Castiel's liking. But...

“Were I not wed to heaven,” he said softly, stroking Dean's hair, doubting the man would remember any of this in the morning anyway, “I'd take you in a... a manly fashion.” Castiel moved down the bed to Dean's feet and untied his boots, pulling them off and setting them aside.

“'Cause I'm pretty?” Dean murmured, mostly asleep already, head rolling to the side on the pillow. Castiel stood upright, gazing down at the man in the bed, feeling something like adoration and mostly exasperation.

“Because you're pretty,” his words were lost on the now snoring man, but he added, because he was admitting it only to himself and the darkness of the room as he clicked off the lamp on the small night table, “because I find you beautiful, Dean Winchester.”

He then made himself comfortable in the chair he'd pulled Dean from to stand watch and ensure the man did not choke on his own vomit. One way or another, by all the Holies, this behavior ended tomorrow.

 

 

Dean had two very specific questions as he came back to consciousness. One; who parked the impala on his head? Two; when did his bladder get to be the size of a basketball? He really had more questions than that, like where was he, was there any liquor left, and how had he gotten to the bed. The last thing he remembered was reaching for another drink, and when his head had hit the table, deciding it was comfortable enough to rest for a bit. Now he was face down in one of the motel beds, boots off, cheek resting in a damp spot on the pillow. Eew. He rolled to his back, and his stomach and brain both rolled nauseatingly with him.

“Fuuuuuuck,” he groaned miserably, willing the room to stop spinning so maybe the rest of him could follow suit.

“Good, you're awake. To your right on the small night table there are two things called Tylenol, and a glass of water. Take them. Go shower. Now.” Well, that explained how he'd gotten to the bed. Dean didn't remember Cas being so damn bossy, though. Or loud. He repressed a shudder at Cas's tone, telling himself it was the hangover. Nothing could turn him on right now with the way he felt, but Cas's demanding tone came close. Dean threw his arm over his face, because even behind his eyelids the watery light seeping in from the drawn curtains -ratty bits of fabric that they were- was fucking agonizing.

“Did you hear me Dean?” Cas was much closer now, and louder, damnit. Dean winced, lifted his arm and cracked one eye warily to find the annoying angel hovering over him, scowly and vexed and kind of adorable with his blue eyes narrowed at Dean. His dark hair was tousled as if he'd repeatedly run his fingers through it, and Dean had the sudden urge to do the same. Dean shuddered as other things went through his mind, unbidden, such as images of Cas hovering over him for a _whoooole_ other set of reasons. He started to wonder what Cas's face would look like if Dean kissed down his soft belly, what sounds he'd make when his nipples were- “Are you ill? Your pupil is very dilated-” Oh hell.

“Damn it, Cas, don't you have a... a Heaven to run or... something?” Dean grumbled, pushing himself slowly up to sitting and forcing Cas back. “Thought you were some kind of bureaucrat now that big brother Michael's gone.” Cas's jaw clenched, as though gnashing his teeth and Dean couldn't help but grin, wretchedly hungover as he was, at irritating the irritating angel. The childish approach was vastly better than the thoughts he'd been harboring of the angel lately. Was Cas _really_ junkless?

“Take the pills, Dean. Go shower. Then we need to talk.” Cas still had his bossy angel voice, but his cerulean eyes were filled with concern and compassion in equal measure. Not pity, because he knew Dean well enough to know the man couldn't abide pity, but the empathy almost killed him anyway. Shower. Yeah. Dean propelled himself to his feet, teetered a moment for which Cas thankfully did not try to steady him, and then stumbled his way to the bathroom to brush his fuzzy teeth, piss, and shower. Not necessarily in that order.

As Dean let the hot water wash away... _crap, how many days has it been?_ ... too much dirt and sweat and alcohol, bits and pieces of the night before started coming back to him. He'd been reaching for the bottle, laid his head down, and then Cas had been there, hauling one of Dean's arms over his strong shoulder and pulling him up along his side where the heat from his body had instantly soaked into Dean's cold skin. He'd been so damn  _cold_ lately, and the angel had been so, so  _warm._ Dean couldn't believe he'd actually sniffed Cas. He'd smelled so good, better than anything Dean had smelled in longer than he'd care to admit to. Always had, if he were being completely honest with himself. Felt better, too, and Dean suppressed a moan at the shockingly vivid memory of the angel's body against his as Cas helped him the short distance to the bed.

Dean turned in the shower to wash his hair with the cheap motel shampoo/conditioner/body wash as more snippets came back to him. Seemed like he'd asked Cas something after the angel had gotten him to bed, and though he couldn't remember the question, he remembered part of Cas's answer.  _I would take you._ Dean shivered. He thought he'd heard Cas call him beautiful too, later, though that could've been a dream. Dean shook his head. He couldn't be remembering right, ready to chalk it up to good old alcohol and an under-active sex life of late, but those words were much too clear to be anything but memory. He glanced down and groaned at his dick as it hardened, those four words,  _I would take you_ , repeating in his mind in Cas's quiet voice as he reached down and gave himself a long stroke.

He'd lusted after the angel almost from the beginning. Who wouldn't? He was hot, and sweet, and so, so naive, but Dean had a strict rule about fraternizing with coworkers and so had kept his lusting to himself. If he was remembering right, though, it seemed his angel had done some lusting of his own. Interesting. Didn't change anything, not really. Physical comfort would be nice, sure, but complicating things wasn't Dean's style, not to mention how out of control he felt right now, _also_ not to mention he was completely ignoring the fact that he'd just thought of Cas as _his_.

He stroked faster, harder, trying to keep his mind on Cas and his words and body because _this_ was as close as he'd get to slaking his lust with the angel in question, but lost his rhythm and motivation for release as his thoughts shifted track all by themselves to _why_ he felt so out of control. Why he was in this goddamned shitty shower with a goddamned shitty hangover and the angel of his literal dreams as his babysitter. Why he was drinking enough that Cas felt he _needed_ a babysitter. He banged his fist on the plastic shower stall hard enough to rattle the pipes behind in the wall.

He'd lost his only purpose when Sam took that plunge and sacrificed himself, and yeah, okay, he was headed for what was going to be his _new_ purpose, but he was entitled to a little drunken forgetting along the way, thank you very fucking much. Part of him wanted to crawl into the bottle and stay forever in that numb, fuzzy place of forgetfulness. It was nice there. He knew that wasn't healthy, or sane, or even feasible. Bobby wouldn't let him. Cas apparently wouldn't either. Cas' concern though, his compassion, his _care,_ had touched something in Dean, made him want... Dean shut off the shower with more force than necessary, gave himself a cursory once over with the rough, stained off-white towel and wrapped it around his waist all while wondering if he had cleanish clothes.

When he opened the bathroom door to find out, Cas was waiting for him, standing between the double beds where Dean had left him, arms crossed and scowling again, or still, maybe. He could totally picture Cas scowling at him through the bathroom wall. He almost smiled, but Cas's scowl stayed in place. Right. They were going to talk, so the angel had said. Well they could talk while Dean rummaged for clothes that wouldn't stand up on their own. He grabbed his duffle, slung it on the bed and commenced the rummaging, trying hard to ignore the weight of Cas's gaze on him. Judgmental fucker.

“What is this, Cas? An intervention?” Dean asked snidely as he pulled up the black tee shirt at the bottom of his duffle and sniffed it. Not terrible. Pants, now that might a different story. He dug deeper in the bag, past all the unfolded stuff... Lo and behold a clean pair of jeans. Hallelujah. Underwear though... he might end up commando today. He grimaced. Unless he washed a pair in the sink...

“Of sorts,” Cas said sternly as Dean continued his search for boxer briefs he could wash out. “You're going to get dressed, and you're going to Lisa's. Today.” All said with that same certainty, that same command that Dean was sure he used on the angelic peons and got results. It raised Dean's hackles more than usual, in part because of the hangover, and in part because it was the vocal embodiment of what Dean himself was missing; control.

Dean laid the clothes on the bed slowly and stalked toward the angel on the other side, naked but for a tightly wrapped towel, stares locked, hazel-green and clear-blue-gone-deep sea clashing. Dean looked Cas over, watched the angel tense and fidget under his intense perusal. The angel might have commanded angelic armies in his eons of existence, but he wasn't comfortable commanding Dean right now. Cas steeled his spine and forged on though. “You're out of control, Dean. I understand why. I'm trying to help by giving you... guidance. Direction.”

“Direction?” Dean snorted, looking him over once more, enjoying the squirming more than he should. “I had direction, Cas. My bro-” his voice broke, choked off on the fucking word, and Dean wondered how long it would take before that didn't happen. “Sam took my direction away from me when he threw himself in the fucking pit. My whole life has been Sam. Keeping him safe, taking care of him. _He was my direction._ And you? You're a sorry replacement.” Cas winced, and he knew the words had stung -he'd meant them to-, but the wounded look in the angel's blue eyes startled Dean a little, and made him feel like a piece of shit for using Cas as a punching bag for his own crap.

“I know, Dean,” Cas said more evenly than he had a right to, “I lost a brother too, though my relationship with Michael was not nearly so close as yours with Sam. And I cared for Sam, I did. I know he wouldn't want this for you. He would want you to go to Lisa. He _told_ you to go.” Cas's voice firmed up again. “So, enough is enough. You're going. Today. No more of _this._ ” He made a sharp gesture toward the bottle still on the table, still a third full of the amber liquid which should've been calling to Dean like a siren's song... but wasn't. He waited for the urge to drink, waited for the desire for the burn in his veins and bitter numbness that didn't come. He had something more interesting right in front of him. A better burn, and something that definitely would _not_ numb him. That thought more than anything drove him. He knew Cas could make him _feel._

“Are you trying to go all Dom on me, Cas?” Dean asked incredulously, crowding the angel. As soon as he got close, that scent that was uniquely _Cas_ hit him -like cinnamon and citrus and _home-_ , the warmth of him, the way the angel stood his ground but was obviously uncomfortable doing so. Cas swallowed, but held Dean's gaze. The angel jutted out his chin, as if daring Dean to do... something Anything.

Something in Dean snapped, that part of him that was out of control and desperately needed it back reared to the surface and bled into his skin, his voice and eyes. Cas's attempt at commanding him woke his own dominance. Control. Like a starved lion latching onto a wounded gladiator, Dean felt his limbs flood with power, even if it was only over this one thing. He'd lost control of almost everything -himself, his life- but this, this was one place he could have a bit of it back.

“Because you're doing it wrong,” Dean growled. Cas's eyes widened, he swallowed hard again. Opened his mouth to speak. Closed it. Looked so off kilter and lost for a moment and Dean felt that lust surge straight to his cock. Cas cleared his throat.

“Dean-”

“No,” Dean growled again, “Strip, angel boy.”

 

 

Those three words, in that commanding tone, and the demeanor that seemed to have overtaken the man, made Castiel both uneasy and excited in equal measure. The angel had never felt the like. It was almost like the feeling he got before going into battle, but this was hotter, more compelling, than any battle lust he'd ever felt. He'd wondered if he could pull off commanding Dean Winchester to do anything and have it work. He'd counted on the hangover making the man slightly more pliant and less observant. Less... Dean. Castiel thought he may have miscalculated.

“Did I stutter, Cas?” Dean asked in that same voice that made the angel shudder. “I. Said. Strip.”

“N-no, you didn't, but Dean we-” Dean cut him off, arms crossing over his chest and making the muscles there bunch in a most distracting way.

“See, in the shower, I remembered a few things from last night. How hot you felt against me, how my breath on your neck made you tremble. How you said you'd _take_ _me_ , and called me beautiful,” Castiel felt his cheeks heat and swallowed hard. Yes, he'd badly miscalculated. “So don't even try to convince me some part of you doesn't want me, Cas.” Cas swallowed again tried to keep his voice mostly steady.

“It's true, the human-” Dean laughed darkly, sending another thrill though Castiel's body at the tone and this turn of events. This couldn't be happening, but the look in Dean's dark green -more hazel than green now, Castiel noted in passing- eyes said that yes, yes it was, and Dean was right; a part of the angel did want it. It was wrong, but that didn't seem to matter. The man dropped his arms to his sides and stepped closer to Cas, crowding him further.

“Don't blame this on human flesh, Cas. You can blame your love of _cheeseburgers_ on human flesh. Not _this_. You, Seraph Castiel, _you_ _want_ _me_. In a dirty, sinful, degenerate way. In a very human way.” And Castiel knew he couldn't hide the bare truth of those words, couldn't keep it from his eyes or the defeat from his posture. Dean was so close, and clad only in that scrap of a towel, Castiel could feel the man's body heat radiating even through his own clothing. And though the angel was fully clothed and Dean was nearly naked, Castiel had no doubt who was in control here, his own control of the situation slipping further and further from his grasp. “I want you, too. Have for a long, long time Cas,” Dean growled, “and today we're going to do something about that.”

“It's against the rules, Dean. Your own and the ones set for me.” Castiel said weakly, knowing full well what the response would be. This was what Dean needed, and of course, Dean was right that a part of Castiel wanted it, too, apprehensions aside. Just once, he wanted to know. To feel.

“Then I'll punish you for breaking them,” Dean leered, voice dark and wicked and sending shivers up and down the angel's spine. “Now, strip.”

Still uneasy, quivering with both need and terror -neither of which he was certain of, which only exacerbated both-, Castiel complied, shucking his trench coat and the rest of his clothes and laying them out on the bed beside Dean's own discarded clothing. He stood before Dean, naked and trembling as the man's eyes roamed over his skin and caught at his groin, then looked up at Castiel's eyes with an upraised eyebrow.

“Really are junkless, as Sam so often reminds you. Huh.” Castiel felt his cheeks heat further, didn't correct the man's tenses when it came to his brother, and he absolutely wasn't about to tell Dean the truth about his so called 'junk'. Best to just get this over with, let Dean get this out of his system and go to Lisa's. Hopefully their camaraderie could survive what was about to happen. Dean stroked the angel's shoulders, down his chest and abdominal muscles, warm hands leaving more bumps in their wake. “So smooth and pale. It'll be fun to redden that pale skin when I punish you, but first, we have to break the rules, don't we?” Dean's normally bright green irises were nearly swallowed by inky pupil, mirroring the darkness in his voice and demeanor. “Kneel, angel of the Lord.”

As if the command had liquefied Castiel's muscles, he dropped to his knees. Even the reminder of his station could not keep Castiel on his feet. The motel carpet was rough, and he almost felt claustrophobic with a bed on either side of him and Dean towering over him, but when the man pulled the towel away from his hips, all those things ceased to exist with the angel's eyes glued to Dean Winchester's gloriously rigid member. Castiel looked up at Dean apprehensively, licking his suddenly very dry lips.

“That's it. Get those lips nice and wet, Cas. You're going to suck me, and since you're just an angel in a meat suit, I won't even have to worry about choking you with my cock down your throat when I fuck your pretty, pretty mouth, will I?” Dean's eyes were wild, his grin manic, which should have worried Castiel more than it did. The words, though, made him feel reckless in a way he never had before. “Wonder how much come it takes to fill an angel to bursting. Guess we'll see.”

Castiel opened his mouth to protest at the same time Dean grabbed the hair at the back of his head and pushed his cock into the angel's mouth in one long thrust. Shocked, Castiel opened his jaw on reflex, keeping his teeth out of the way as best he could to prevent injury to Dean, unsure what to do with his tongue, though Dean didn't seem to care as he began pumping his hips, thrusting his cock in and out of Castiel's mouth.

As if he'd read Castiel's mind though, Dean grunted, “Rub your... _nnng_... your tongue along the underside, along the vein... _ssss... Yeah._ Just like that. Hollow your cheeks. Suck at the head when I bring it back, _thaaat's_ it. _Just like that_.” Castiel took direction well, how could he not, being what he was, but this... this was something completely out of his realm of imagining. He could -and maybe should- push the man away, leave. Castiel wouldn't though. Dean needed this, needed him, even if it was only temporary and only circumstantial. A part of Castiel needed this too. The clean, musky scent and matching musky flavor of the man answered a call in the angel that he'd never known existed, and suddenly he was _hungry._ Hungry for this. Hungry for Dean and the contact and forbidden acts they were committing.

Dean stroked his fingers through the angel's hair almost lovingly, and Castiel looked up around the cock shuttling in and out of his mouth to meet Dean's dark green gaze, half lidded and glassy as cut emeralds, cheeks flushed with pleasure and air hissing between gritted teeth through slightly parted lips. He, Castiel, had done that to the indomitable Dean Winchester. _He_ had put that look on Dean's face and the pleasure in his eyes. That was a power in it's own right, and it made the angel shudder. Dean got both hands in Castiel's hair and gripped, not tight, but definitely unyielding.

“God _damn_ you look good with your pretty lips stretched tight around my dick. Even better with your face pressed into my pubic hair. Just like that.” Castiel closed his eyes and -ignoring the blasphemy- hummed at the praise from the man he cared for more than he should as he was pressed just so, the dark hair around Dean's genitals softer than it looked against his nose and chin. He wished he could breathe, just to take in more of the scent of the man. “Open your eyes, Cas, let me see those beautiful eyes. So dark blue right now. Wish I had better words for you, but I can't think right now with your mouth on me.” The angel found it a little endearing, even as Dean thrust his cock into Castiel's throat, that the man thought his eyes were beautiful.

“You wanted this, your eyes can't lie to me Cas. Your gorgeous eyes. You'd leave if you didn't want this.” And it was true, Castiel could hardly argue it. In a way, he was almost glad Dean had taken the choice from him, giving him only the choice to accept what Dean gave him, or flee. Dean thrust harder, pushing deeper. “Such a pretty little cockslut _._ Your throat feels so fucking _good_ squeezing me. Swallow around me, work your throat for me, Cas. Do you like me that deep inside you?” Castiel wondered if an answer was required.

The dirty talk should have made him feel ashamed of where he was; on his knees in a dingy, stinking motel room with a human male's penis in his throat, being used like a cheap prostitute for another man's pleasure. It did the opposite though, thrilled him and made him moan and the moan made Dean gasp, and then Dean seemed to thicken in his mouth, in his throat, stretching the tissue to just this side of painful even as he swallowed around it. It was surreal, in a sense, submitting to this mostly not against his will, for he hadn't had a chance to say yes or no. Dean was right, though, that Castiel could leave whenever he wanted. He had no doubt, though, if he stopped this right now that Dean would, but he had no desire to stop. His only desire, in fact, was the pleasure of the man lunging faster and faster down his throat, forcing saliva from the sides of his mouth and down his chin, the wet _slurping_ adding to the chorus of their moans and Dean's grunts.

The sounds Dean made started to make him wish he had a member of his own, because he was sure it would be hard and tight and hot right now. The way Dean used him, talked to him about how good it felt to thrust into his his mouth, his throat, the way he moved rhythmically made the angel wonder what it would feel like with that same cock and that same rhythm thrusting into other orifices.

Castiel knew of anal sex, knew it could be pleasurable for men, both homosexual men and those rare heterosexuals that understood that enjoying anal sex did not equate to homosexuality. Why humans got so up in arms about what pleased them and the meanings behind those things would always baffle Castiel. If it felt pleasurable, and wasn't hurting anyone, did it really matter what it meant? His own anus clenched at the idea of having Dean inside him that way, thrusting in and out of his body. The images that surged into his mind made him moan around Dean's cock again...

Dean groaned loudly... ' _Shit. I'm coming, Cas, ungh, Cas. Cassss-'..._ and his cock stiffened further in the angel's throat, and the man backed out just enough that the first burst of ejaculate coated Castiel's tongue in a salty-bitter rush that was strangely pleasing. Castiel's cock throbbed at the idea of swallowing his seed, having a part of Dean inside him. He could feel pre-ejaculate flowing down his own cock at the thought... and then realization hit Castiel so hard he almost closed his teeth on Dean's member, pulling away roughly, not caring that the last burst of Dean's semen landed on his chest. Dean pulled back quickly, startled, and Castiel looked around in panic, struggled to find something, anything to cover his newly revealed sex organ; a long, slender, uncut, stone hard cock jutting out proudly from his groin, complete with testicles and, he could feel, anus.

He grabbed the shirt he'd discarded on the bed and pulled it into his lap... too late. He looked up, and Dean was staring at Castiel's lap as though he'd seen a ghost, first in shock... then he looked up into the angel's face with a grin so wicked, Castiel's brother would be proud. The angel swallowed hard. Yes, Lucifer would be _very_ proud right now.

 

 

Dean had still been coming down from the most incredible orgasm of his life, only to be startled by Cas's sudden withdrawal and the panic stricken look on his face had had Dean's stomach plummeting. Thinking it was the realization of what he'd just allowed to be done to him, Dean had been ready to... to... something. He wasn't even sure what, but when he went to say something as Cas was looking frantically around, something caught his eye. A cock. Cas's cock. Complete with a set of balls, and the hollow behind them that hinted at a taint and all that lay further back, before the angel covered himself with his own shirt. What Dean had seen couldn't be _un_ seen though, and Cas looked mortified, and guilty as hell, and was very, obviously, still excited. This was too rich, but what the actual fuck was going on? He'd seen Cas in all his naked glory before putting him on his knees and shoving his cock in the angel's mouth. He'd been junkless, then. Just like a freaking Ken doll. Not now though.

“Cas! You been holding out on me!” Dean couldn't not laugh, not only at the crestfallen look on Cas's face, but the whole wealth of possibilities that just opened up before him. Cas looked away, down, over, anywhere but at Dean.

“Angels that take a human vessel are sworn to retain their sexless nature,” the angel explained flatly, “but of course, humans have sex organs, and so it is trusted to us to will away the human genitalia, both to fight the temptation of the human flesh and preserve the trust between angel and human vessel. Its the only free will we are allowed; to maintain our angelic virtue or to fall to... human urges.” This he finished with flaming cheeks, and a look of such utter dejection it almost broke Dean's heart.

This was a big deal to Cas. Dean had known that, logically, but this... the fact that Cas had gotten so caught up in this... whatever this was... that he not only trusted Dean with this secret, but wasn't trying to backtrack or hide or will it all away again, made Dean realize this was very much not a game. He'd wondered if he hadn't just... projected his own desire and lust on the angel. This, though, this was proof that Cas really did want this, wanted whatever it was that was happening between them, and wanted more. If he didn't want more, he'd be trying to magic away his sex, just like he said. His words said one thing, but his actions, and lack thereof, confirmed to Dean that Cas was _enjoying this._ Hesitant, _uncertain_ yes, but not _unwilling_. Dean knelt, gently took Cas's chin in his hand, raised the angel's face with little resistance, and made Cas look him in the eye. He found the word he had been looking for earlier, when he'd looked into the angel's eyes before and couldn't think for the pleasure.

“Lapis,” he said softly, and Cas's brow furrowed in confusion. “Your eyes, they remind me lapis right now. Bright, rich blue.” He stroked the angel's cheek, saw the questions blooming in those lapis eyes and cut him off. “Tell me you don't want this Cas, and it stops now. Tell me your heart's not pounding for it, that you're not burning up with it. Say it.” Cas looked deeply into Dean's eyes and the man watched as all the angel's questions bled away to a certainty that was a little humbling. Cas took a deep breath and released it slowly, tension easing from his muscles. “That's what I thought. Your fall to human urges will be spectacular, I'll make sure of it,” Dean said, smiling gently but with a wicked glint, and Cas's eyes widened as he caught the implication, and then his cheeks turned flaming scarlet, the flush spreading down his neck. The color reminded Dean, he had some punishing to do. Cas's ass would look lovely that same color. Something must've shown on his face because Cas blanched a little.

“It just occurred to me that I now have two things to punish you for. Falling to your human urges, and keeping _this_ from me,” he pulled the shirt away from Cas's newly emerged genitals, cock still standing tall and engorged. Cas seemed about to protest the additional punishment, but Dean wasn't having logic intrude on his fun. “I'm going to spank you Cas. Hard. I'm going to turn that gorgeous, lily white ass of yours the same color your cheeks are turning now.” And though the apprehension in his eyes said, ' _no, no please don't_ ', Cas's quickened breathing and straining cock said, ' _oh yes, yes please do_ '.

Dean was awestruck for a moment. This creature, older than time, more powerful than Dean could ever imagine, was submitting to him, to pain and pleasure and sin, all at Dean's behest because he needed it, and because Cas wanted it and wanted to give Dean what he needed. The urge hit Dean to pull the angel to him and kiss the shit out of him. The time didn't feel right though. Not yet.

Dean moved, getting up from the floor and sitting back on the edge of the bed behind him, and crooked a finger at Cas to stand. The angel did, slowly, hesitantly, until he was at his full height before Dean, full, leaking cock aimed right at Dean's face like a dowsing rod, and although he was eager to get the spanking over with and move on to other things, he had to know... He ran his finger up the underside of Cas's cock and collected a bit of precome on his finger, making the angel's jaw drop and sending a visible shiver through him. Holding Cas's wide eyed, fathomless gaze, he brought the finger to his own mouth, and slowly, sensuously licked the fluid from it. Then _he_ had to close his eyes, just to savor the taste on his tongue. It was definitely human spunk with it's delicious bitter-salt flavor, but there was a sweetness there that he'd never tasted before.

Dean was _mostly_ straight, but he did crave male company on occasion, and would find it and enjoy it for a night. Sam always thought he went hunting for women, and Dean was happy to keep his brother's world view intact, but he'd sucked a dick or two and he enjoyed performing the act and the taste of a man's essence. Cas, though, Cas tasted human, sure, but underlying that, the back of his tongue was bathed in sweetness and a tingle like putting your tongue to a nine volt battery that had to be all angel. It filled his taste buds and made his soft palate ache for the act that would bring him more of that flavor. Dean opened his eyes to find Cas's glazed and half lidded, cock twitching as he watched Dean lick his lips.

Dean gave the angel no warning, just grabbed Cas's wrists in each hand as he suddenly lurched forward and wrapped his own arms around the angel's hips so Cas's hands were held behind his back, and swallowed that hard cock all the way down. Cas cried out his name and went up on his toes, and Dean smiled around the angel's cock. He'd long ago learned to stifle his gag reflex -had to with the things he'd seen and smelled- and so had no problem deep-throating Cas's long, slender cock. He'd missed this; the feel of a man's dick moving over his tongue and stretching his jaw, the gasping, crying, moaning from above him, knowing _he_ was the source of all that reaction, making him come apart and come undone.

Knowing he was doing that to _Cas,_ that he was the first to _ever_ do this to the angel, that _he_ was the one Cas had _allowed_ this with, was just that much better. It was heady, controlling a creature such as Cas. The angel was powerful, Dean knew for a fact he hadn't seen him at his scariest. The fact that Cas was _permitting_ this, _submitting_ to Dean's control and whims willingly, if not uneasily, was a high Dean had never experienced before. What was that line from that cheesy as hell sparkly teenage vampire movie? His own personal brand of heroin. That's what Cas was, and Dean couldn't get enough, lost himself to the intoxication of sucking the angel's cock and listening to the music of his moans and cries.

The angel pulled at his wrists halfheartedly in Dean's grip, as if just to feel himself bound, and moaned when Dean tightened both his grip and his suction, taking the angel deeper into his throat, swallowing around him. He felt Cas's hips start to twitch, the angel's presence seeming to expand, a sure sign he was getting close. Much as he'd like to bring the angel off and get more of that delicious spunk for himself, he had a spanking to administer. He sucked hard all the way to the tip, gave the head one last flick goodbye, and popped off.

“NO! Dean... Dean please, please I was...” Cas was damn near sobbing now, body taut as though he could will Dean's mouth back on him. It almost worked.

“Were you close, Cas?” Dean asked wickedly. The angel looked down at him with wide, wet eyes, pleading. “That's for lying to me.” Dean kept his tone dark, his voice was scratchy anyway from the rough use of his throat. It served his purposes to remind the angel who was in control here.

“But... so... so that was one of my... punishments?” Cas asked, a little deliriously. Dean really hadn't intended it to be, necessarily, but supposed it fit. It was cruel enough. Cas's cock was still leaking, so with one last lick, he let the shuddering angel's hands go. He was about to tell Cas to turn around, but the angel surprised him. Rubbing his wrists, staring at the reddened skin where Dean had gripped him, he sighed.

“I... I think I enjoy being helpless to you. Giving you control of me, only being able to take what you choose to give me. It's interesting. Of course I wasn't truly helpless, I could've left at any time. Still, the feeling was enjoyable. Is enjoyable. I have no doubt that if I wanted to stop anything you'd respect that, but there's so much I'm responsible for, in command of Heaven-”

“Cas!” Dean cut the angel's word vomit off harshly, and instantly he shut his mouth, looking a little chagrined. Dean wasn't about to correct him about the 'stopping at any time' part. Dean was enjoying his control, and of course he'd like to think he'd stop, and that he'd never do anything like this against someone's will. The fact that he wasn't sure he _would_ stop bothered him less than it should. Knowing he couldn't hurt Cas against his will seemed to give him more moral leeway than he was used to having. He shook his head to clear his thoughts. “Turn around, angel boy.” Cas blushed and did without another word. “Good. Now bend over. Hands on the other bed and keep 'em there.” Cas shuddered, hesitated, deep breath he didn't need, and then complied.

 

 

Castiel did as ordered, all the while a little terrified of what he'd glimpsed in Dean's eyes for the split second after he'd avowed his trust in Dean to stop if he wanted to stop. There's been amusement, adoration even, until those words had come tumbling out of the angel's mouth, and then that split second of _doubt_ had flashed in the man's eyes and everything in Castiel had frozen. If Dean doubted he could stop, what business did the angel have trusting him further? His better judgment dictated he leave now, consequences be damned. True, Dean couldn't physically hurt Cas, but that was hardly the point. That thought disappeared the moment Dean put his hands on Castiel's ass, massaging the fleshy globes and gripping them firmly. The angel couldn't hold back the moan if he'd tried.

“Gotta say, Cas, Jimmy Novak is not only well endowed, but he has a fabulous ass,” Dean said almost flippantly, but the reminder of what Castiel was allowing to be done to his vessel's body, a body entrusted to his care not to be abused or violated had him cold again. The whiplash of his emotions was making him dizzy. He needed to stop this bef-

“Oh! _Ohhhh, Dean_!” Castiel cried out as the man spread the angel's ass open and ran his tongue from his testicles to his anus, then swirled his tongue around that entrance to his body over and over and Castiel lost the will to care about poor James Novak. The tongue disappeared, leaving only cool air across Castiel's hole, then one hand disappeared, and the angel was given no warning except the _whoosh_ of air before a sharp impact to his right buttock. It startled him so, the sting, the impact, the _act_ itself, that he almost bolted upright.

“Uh uh uh, you stay bent over, hands on the bed Cas, and take every swat I give you until I decide you've had enough. Got it?” Dean's voice left no room for argument, and Castiel nodded. “Verbal answer Cas.”

“Y-yes, Dean, I understand.” Castiel didn't, not really. He understood Dean's need to regain control, but what he didn't understand was his own submissive reaction to the man in this state. Castiel was as old as the universe itself, had seen countless battles, both angelic and human, had commanded legions, was regent of Heaven, but for this mortal man, for Dean Winchester, the Seraph Castiel was bent over a cheap motel room bed being spanked and debauched. Was being punished like an unruly child for the acts that Dean himself had instigated between them. And Castiel wasn't stopping this. He was, in fact, enjoying it a great deal.

It was humiliating to admit the realization, even to himself, but he _was_ enjoying this, the pain of the strikes to his buttocks brought as much pleasure as the oral ministrations Dean was applying to his entrance. It was the fact that both sensations kept him present in the moment, kept his mind on the here and now and not what was happening, or even what needed to be done, outside this room. Castiel was trembling, both with a need he didn't _completely_ understand, pleasure he _mostly_ understood, and an anticipation that was _wholly_ new to him. The second slap to his ass cheek was less surprising, less even was the third. Then both hands were back, spreading Castiel open again and Dean's tongue was licking, flicking and laving his sensitive flesh. The angel moaned, an almost mournful sound even to his own ears, at the sensual torture.

Dean randomly switched between strikes to each cheek -sometimes alternating, sometimes multiple strikes to one side, which seemed almost better than the back and forth- and spreading his ass open to drive Castiel mad with his tongue. The burn in his skin was pleasant for a time, but it soon became close to unbearable, and still he took it. The pleasure Dean brought with his tongue was close to the same, perfect until it was overwhelming. Just when Castiel thought he couldn't take any more of either action, Dean would change tactics. It was infuriating and amazing and terrifying.

The angel whimpered and moaned, sweating and shaking, and when Dean's tongue wasn't otherwise busy, he told Castiel how good he was doing, how stunning his skin looked with Dean's hand prints emblazoned a lovely shade of crimson, how delicious his flesh was, how he could eat Cas's ass for ages and never get tired of it. The angel floated on those words, each lick and strike sending him higher, further. Castiel felt something building in him, some sort of pressure that he had no name for and he wasn't sure when he'd started sobbing because even as the pressure built, he felt relieved at the same time. He had no control here, and that was a blessing in disguise. Dean paused, and Castiel hardly even noticed until the skin of his ass cheeks cooled, along with the spit-slick skin at and around his entrance.

“Six more, Cas. That's it,” Dean said roughly. “Count them.” Castiel wasn't sure he could find his voice enough to count, but the next strike proved him wrong.

“One,” the angel croaked, the burning pain in his left ass cheek sharpened to almost excruciating before dulling back to the pervasive burn. Just as it had dulled, the next strike to his right cheek came, and it started all over.

“Two.” Castiel had more of his voice now, the number coming clearer, louder. Next strike, Left cheek, just as the pain came back down on the right.

“Three!” the angel called out. He was almost frantic now, between the pain, the pleasure, the relief, and the building pressure; like a storm gathering in his gut and along his spine. Next strike, right cheek.

“Four!” Building, building. Sobbing. Dean murmuring praise that Castiel couldn't make out, only that the soft words were positive in tone. There were no licks now, no pleasure, only pain, but there was a pleasure in that as well, though it was not as straightforward. Next strike, left side.

“Five!!” Castiel damn near screamed. The storm was going to break and possibly break an angel with it's intensity.

“Last one, Cas.” Dean said gently, and Castiel bobbed his head in a parody of a nod, tears streaming down his face, dripping onto the rough, tacky motel blanket between white-knuckled fists. Last strike. Right side.

“SIX!!” The angel screamed, but no storm broke. The pressure was there, ballooned to painful proportions, but he needed... he needed... “DEAN PLEASE!!” Castiel screamed, and Dean spread his flaming ass cheeks and thrust his tongue into Castiel's hole, as deep as it could go. The storm finally, _finally_ broke, ecstasy crashing over the angel in heaving sobs and wracking his body with spasm after spasm of ecstatic lightening and a pure pleasure so intense, so overwhelming, he collapsed under the glory of it.

 

 

Dean anticipated the release, the collapse, and caught Cas around the middle, guiding him down to lay across the bed on his heaving belly, his body still twitching and writhing as Dean lay alongside him. His own chest was heaving from the intensity of the moment. Dean had felt static pressure on his skin, and his ears had rung briefly with a feedback-like noise as Cas had struggled to rein in his angelic spirit. Dean didn't know a whole lot about the D/s lifestyle but he knew what subspace looked like, and Cas was so far out of his mind with it Dean wasn't sure the angel would find his way back. He stroked Cas's back, feeling the sweaty skin quiver beneath his touch as they both took a moment to process what had just happened. Dean's mind was blown; he couldn't imagine how Cas felt.

“Dean?” Cas asked after a moment between heaving breaths and tear stained sobs.

“Yeah Cas, I'm here,” he whispered into the angel's ear as he lay along the length of Castiel's body. “What do you need?”

“I need... I need you,” Cas's voice was raw and halting, “inside this body. Inside... me. Now. Please, Dean. Finish it.” That surprised the man. He'd fully intended to let the angel rest, but he couldn't deny his own cock was throbbing against Cas's hip, and the frayed edges of his control couldn't withstand much more begging in that sweet, broken voice.

“Cas-”

“Dean! Please!” Cas cried raggedly, turning his head to meet Dean's eyes with his own, reddened lapis damp and desperate and pleading. “Please, Dean,” Cas whispered. “Please.” He kept begging even as Dean succumbed to the wild, terrible need in those eyes, got into position and humped into him, driving his cock inside the angel's body hard and fast.

Cas moaned beneath him, both in pleasure and probably a little pain, since Dean was pushing inside him mercilessly, hips settling against an ass so red and welted there was no way the angel wasn't in pain -even though Dean knew if Cas was in pain it was because he chose to feel it. Dean had seen him shot, stabbed, and blown up with as little effect on the angel as a paper cut. Not to mention only the barest of prep he'd done with his tongue, and no lube except for the ample spit Dean had left on and in him. He didn't have anything else to use as lube, so he sat up and spit where his cock was drawing back from Cas's body, spit again closer to his entrance, and once more on the glans of his cock before plunging back inside and setting a blistering pace. Cas's ass was vise tight around Dean's cock, in no way ready for this, but Dean's will had buckled when the angel cried his name, pleading, and he couldn't hold back anymore. He was supposed to be in control but Dean had absolutely lost it.

“Hold on, Cas,” Dean grunted as he fucked, hard and fast and dirty and so, so perfect, “just relax, let me in... just... God, Cas, just let me in, let me in...” Cas moaned, relaxed further, melting beneath Dean. The man shifted a little, laying his full weight on the angel's back and getting his hands around Cas's shoulders, changing the angle of his hips. Then the pitch of Cas's moans changed to a keening cry, even as his inner muscles were still fluttering around Dean's cock from his previous orgasm. The long, low moans spilling from the angel's lips had Dean gritting his teeth, had him trying to climb inside Cas's body, get deeper. He needed... needed...

Dean pulled out suddenly -making the angel gasp and wail-, grabbed Cas's legs and flipped him violently over onto his back, throwing the angel's legs over his arms and diving back inside him in one deft move, damn near folding Cas in half as he threw his weight into his thrusts. He needed to see Cas's face, and good God. He couldn't look away as his own orgasm built. Couldn't blink. There was nothing in the universe, in all of space or time, as beautiful as the weeping angel writhing on his cock, pinned beneath him. Face flushed and utterly open, eyes glassy and pupils blown, tear tracks down his face and into his hair at his temples. Dean leaned down and licked the salt from his cheeks. Dean thrust harder, fucked faster, staring into Cas's wet blue eyes, and Cas clenched around him, crying out.

“D-Dean! DEAN!” Cas screamed, mouth and eyes both wide... Arched like he'd been struck by lightening... Came again, hard, angelic core bursting from him in a rush of hot semen, blinding light and ear-splitting sound that held Dean paralyzed. Until Cas's inner muscles clamped down along Dean's cock, and sent him careening into his own orgasm. Dean's body locked tight, rumbling cry pushing through clenched teeth, and hips flexing violently out of his control as his come spilled inside Cas's body, flooding the angel's ass, marking him. The feel of his hot, wet come deep in his angel, slicking his thrusts as he kept pumping, thrusting, threw him into the stratosphere.

Dean lost time. The feeling was somewhat like being blackout drunk, only much much more enjoyable. He was aware of collapsing atop Cas. Being rolled gently off the angel and feeling his limp cock leaving Cas's body in a gush of cooling fluid. He thought there was a cloth cleaning him, but he could've dreamed that. There were arms around him, pulling him close, skin to skin, warm and still sweat slick, and his face pressed into the angel's shoulder. Cas's fingers threaded through Dean's damp hair and the angel whispered words that reassured fears Dean hadn't known he had, words like _“It's okay, Dean, we're okay”,_ and _“You didn't hurt me”,_ and _“Sleep”._ Dean snuggled closer, pushing his face into the crook of the angel's neck and let his whole body relax, let go. That was it for a bit.

When he woke finally, completely, for a moment he thought he was waking from another drunken bender, except he felt way better than any hangover. The light in the room had changed so he knew some hours had passed, and Cas was still there pressed against him, which was not what he'd expected. For some odd reason, Dean had expected to wake alone, and the fact that the angel lay there staring at him was another reassurance he hadn't known he'd needed; like someone wrapping a heavy blanket around you when you didn't realize you were cold until the warmth was there. They gazed at each other, naked still and surrounded by the scent of their sex and sweat, Cas's deep blue eyes calm and peaceful; a feeling Dean found mirrored inside his own chest for the first time since Sam had sacrificed himself. Thinking of Sam didn't automatically piss him off like it had, either. As if reading his mind, Cas smiled a little, and Dean smiled back and brought his hand up to Cas's cheek. They were soo close, only an inch or two separating their faces... fuck it.

Dean leaned forward, guided Cas forward as well, searching for any sign the angel didn't want this. The thought that Cas would object _now,_ after everything they'd done already, was absurd, but this was... intimate. In a different way. Dean didn't usually kiss his hookups, but Dean couldn't bring himself to put Cas in that category. There was _nothing_ about this that was a hookup. He wasn't sure how to classify what they'd done, what they were to each other now, but he put it out of his mind as he watched Cas's face closely for any negative sign. Nothing.

Cas closed his eyes, and as Dean did the same, their lips came together. Softly. Sweetly. It was unlike any kiss Dean had ever shared with anyone else. Cas's lips were pillow soft, still a little puffy from Dean's cock riding them earlier, and his mouth was so, so warm, just like the rest of him. They moved together, slanting their mouths to fit better, and Dean felt the rumbled moan from Cas's chest echo in his own. A gentle brush of tongues, a sharp inhale, and Dean was dying to take it deeper, to ravage his angels mouth and swallow him whole, possessive pronoun be damned. Instead he pulled back as slowly as he'd leaned in, and watched as Cas opened his dancing blue eyes and smiled the most beatific smile... and said words that shocked the shit out of Dean.

“That was...” the angel sighed, “that was a _perfect_ first kiss, Dean. Thank you.”

 


End file.
